The King of Hearts
by Pumpkingirl
Summary: Additional scene to Servant to Two Masters. After Harker realizes he's been used, he wants to leave Carfax Manor immedaitely, but Alexander doesn't let him go that easily. Jonathan finds himself in an emotionally challenging situation that could change his life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dracula and its characters.

**Summary: **Additional scene to Servant to Two Masters. After Harker realizes he's been used, he wants to leave Carfax Manor immedaitely, but Alexander doesn't let him go that easily. Jonathan finds himself in an emotionally challenging situation that could change his life forever.

**A/N:** Many thanks to pie-liner-eats-tardis from tumblr for beta-ing!

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><p><em>"I didn't destroy the man. You did."<em>

Alexander's words echoed in Jonathan's head like a scream in a vast, empty chamber. They left his mind blank and his knuckles itching. He didn't bother trying to come up with a clever retort; there was nothing left to say. The feeling of disappointment washed over him and he had to make a terrible effort not to give in to the weakness he felt in his knees. He'd been cornered; he'd been deceived, led by the nose. After the words finally stopped ringing in his ear, he longed to ask one question only: _why?_

He wasn't curious about the practical reason behind making him ruin someone's reputation – that they'd already discussed.

What he wanted to know was why Alexander did this to _him_.

It hadn't been too long since this strange American walked into his life, bringing with him a promise of friendship and, as Jonathan hoped, maybe more. Harker had realized pretty early that Alexander played by his own rules in any kind of games, especially the games of society. The man was inside every important circle, but at the same time he laughed behind the back of all his fellow gamers. It didn't take long for Jonathan to start to admire him and, despite how he tried to repress them, he soon started to develop feelings for him.

Quite a few times he'd battled against this unspeakable sin, this desire that drew him towards men. God knows he'd tried to lock it away. But this time it possessed him so strongly, no prayers could banish Alexander from his mind.

Of course, Grayson didn't know. Jonathan had been waiting for a sign, for anything that would have meant he could take a step forward. He snuggled himself into the warm nest of friendship and for the time being that had been enough. He waited.

And this was what he got.

"_You were the one who sought out the bookkeeper._"

"_You were the one who sent the forged documents to the newspapers._"

He could have guessed it was just another one of Alexander's games. Jonathan was merely a card in his hands. _The King of Hearts_. He wanted to laugh at the irony, but his features were still frozen in the aftershock of the conversation they'd been leading.

Alexander put down his glass on the table and stood up. He could have simply dismissed him, but, looking into those wicked eyes, Jonathan could tell this wasn't a move that marked the end of his sufferings.

"Now, shall we return to business at hand?" Grayson proposed. He looked as vivid as ever, a total opposite to the dumbfounded man standing just across the room. He went on:

"I'm planning a demonstration of my resonator. I need you to send out invitations to the press. Will that be a problem?"

"No" Jonathan said quietly after a moment. He kept the eye-contact with Alexander to show him he still had his dignity, even though he felt empty inside.

"There's a good lad" The wink that accompanied Grayson's words made Jonathan feel disgusted with himself. He wished to hate the man in front of him, but he didn't. He couldn't. He cursed himself instead for being a fool, for falling for him, for letting his emotions blind him.

He turned his back to Alexander, determined to leave the study, but he had to come to a halt when he heard his name.

"Harker, I'm not done with you" Grayson's voice was hard as marble. "Come back here a second!"

Jonathan had never wished for nothing more than to be out of Carfax Manor at that moment, but he obediently returned to the room. Alexander must have had forgotten to mention another errand he wanted to send him on and they could have finished this business earlier if he yielded to his word.

The American came to him and stopped in front of him, leaving only a small space between them.

"What do you want, Alexander?" Harker asked annoyed, after the man had been silently scrutinizing his face for nearly a minute.

Grayson's expression was indecipherable when he finally talked:

"Smile for me, Harker!"

"Excuse me?" Jonathan furrowed his brows in confusion.

"I said smile for me. I want to see your best smile." Alexander repeated and waited for him to fulfill his command.

"And why would I do that?" The annoyance and the traces of anger were almost palpable in Jonathan's voice. He knew Alexander was mocking him, it was all too obvious. His so called friend didn't want to miss the opportunity of kicking him once more on the ground. Jonathan's fingers slowly curled into fists.

The deep, raspy voice hit him as if someone poured a bucket of cold water on his head:

"Because I want to see how you're going to smile at the representatives of the press in the future. I want to see how your face will reflect your respect and brotherly love for me. I want to be sure that they'll see the right kind of smile on your face. You see, they need to believe you like working for me, the façade is extremely important." Suddenly he gripped both of Jonathan's arms and squeezed them a bit. "Now, let me see that smile, Harker!"

Jonathan immediately tried to free himself, but he was held firmly in place.

"Let me be, Alexander!" he hissed. "You have no right to treat me like I was a puppet, like I didn't have feelings. You played me, all right. I'll do what I have to do for you, because I'm in your hands. You win. Now let me go!"

"Not until I've seen that smile" Grayson stated.

He couldn't take it anymore, he just couldn't. Jonathan attempted to fight off Alexander's hands, but it was a pointless struggle. In the end he grew so angry that he summoned all the strength he had and pushed Alexander away from him. Grayson fell against his desk and let out a deep groan. Jonathan wanted to take his chance to leave, but he was too slow. This wasn't the day of easy escapes. He was almost at the door when his shoulders were gripped from behind and to his surprise in a moment he was none too gently shoved face against the wall. The impact was so harsh that after he came to his senses he realized that his nose was bleeding and he must have bitten his tongue, because he felt the coppery taste of blood in his mouth as well. He was held tightly against the wall, he felt Alexander's body leaning against his own from behind and a hand pushed his cheek to the cold stone, so he couldn't turn his head.

"Who would have thought you can be this violent, Harker!" Alexander breathed in his ear. "I like it!" He nuzzled against the skin just under Jonathan's ear as he spoke.

Jonathan realized Grayson must have had to stand on tiptoes to be able to come that close to his face, since the man was much shorter than himself. He played with the thought of knocking Grayson back, but he decided against it. He was curious now, he wanted to know what was about to happen.

Alexander traced a line with his finger from his sideburn down his cheek and along his jawline. He touched his lips with his fingertip, and when he pulled his hand back, Jonathan saw blood on his finger. The hand now held his jaw up and Alexander buried his face in Harker's neck. Jonathan's mind was clouded – all he knew was that he couldn't keep himself from trembling as a result of feeling the man being that close to him. Finally, Grayson pulled his head back and Jonathan could swear he was smiling.

"You enjoy this, don't you, Harker?" Grayson asked, but Jonathan stayed silent. He did not know why Alexander was teasing him, but he couldn't say he didn't like it, either. He couldn't lie.

Alexander seemed to take his silence as a yes, because his next move left Jonathan dumbfounded. He pushed him harder to the wall, with his body now fully covering Harker's. Jonathan could not ignore the feeling of Alexander's erection against his backside and when the man started to rub himself against him, Jonathan failed to hold back a sound of pleasure.

As if this was a sign Alexander had been waiting for, he stepped back from him and let the tall man face him.

"I… I'm…" Jonathan started, but he didn't know what to say.

"You don't have to explain yourself" Alexander assured him. "You've been running from this, haven't you? From men…" And then he added "Mina…"

"I love Mina!" It was Jonathan's turn to interrupt him.

"Of course you do, Harker. Like one loves a sister. What do you feel when you kiss her? Do you hate yourself then?"

"Stop it!" Jonathan demanded. "I'm going to marry her."

Alexander chuckled at this. "Certainly, you are. You'll need to keep the façade."

There was no point in taking offense at Grayson's statement, because he knew the man was right. He simply said quietly: "I do."

Alexander took a step toward him, and he was again dangerously close to him. "I can help you, you know" he suggested. "You could get what you want for once. I can give it to you."

Jonathan's heart was racing in his chest. Alexander's lips were only inches from his.

"You're a darling boy" the short man whispered – a sentence that, uttered with his American accent, sounded vulgar and full of profanities.

"Can I trust you, Alxander?" Harker breathed against the other man's mouth. He wished to resolve the chaos in his head, but he didn't succeed. He vaguely remembered that only ten minutes ago Grayson confessed him he'd used him; memories of anger and disappointment swam around his head, but all those bitter feelings were eventually swallowed in fog.

"Why don't you decide after this?" asked Alexander before suddenly capturing his mouth in a kiss.

Jonathan felt a bit awkward first, but he responded to the lips that paid a visit to his owns. He felt Alexander's fingers running through his hair and it felt oh, so good – it felt _right_. He clasped his hands on Grayson's shoulder; he was yet too shy to go on exploring the other man's body, or to even touch his raven black hair that he had wished to feel under his palm ever since he'd first seen Grayson on his grand debut ball.

He lost count of how many times he'd imagined them getting intimate with each other, how many hours he'd wasted when he was supposed to do paperwork for him, but he'd stolen glances at him instead. Now what he'd always yearned for came true, although the circumstances weren't exactly the same that he'd imagined.

Alexander's lips tasted like blood, but he quickly reminded himself of his bitten tongue and bleeding nose. Soon he melted against Grayson's lips, although when the American tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back.

Alexander's mouth and chin were bloody, even his moustache was painted red by his blood.

"I… I should go" Jonathan stammered. He tried to clean the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He felt strangely uncomfortable seeing the mess he'd… they'd made.

"Go," Alexander agreed "but make sure you come back in the evening!"

Jonathan nodded and headed for the door, but he was called after once more:

"Jonathan!"

He turned. "Yes?"

Alexander's eyes were gleaming, Jonathan could almost see in them the promise they held.

"I know how to teach a man to smile" Alexander had said before he returned to the table to retrieve his glass of whiskey.

Jonathan could not see the smug expression distorting his features when he lifted the glass to his mouth, because he was long gone by then.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks a lot to_ the-blaidd-ddrwg_ (tumblr) for beta work!

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><p>"What would you do if you had some business with a dangerous man that was important for you to do, but would leave you in his debt? Would you take the risk or would you choose to walk away?"<p>

The chilly wind was tugging at Jonathan's caramel brown suit, so he pulled it a bit tighter around him and crossed his arms across his chest to keep himself warm. While Szabo considered the question, Harker watched the dark, gloomy clouds, which, a few moments ago, seemed to be so far away, slowly creep over them. It was early afternoon and they sat shoulder to shoulder on a wooden bench under a giant oak tree, their favourite spot in St. James park.

"You say the business is important for me," Szabo mused. "Why is this deal so essential to make?"

Jonathan let out a nervous sigh.

"Let's say the realization would fill a hole inside you..."

"I was never good at solving riddles, you know." The Hungarian fellow shrugged and lifted his hands in front of him, palms upwards. But when he saw that Jonathan faced away from him to hide his despair, he gave a friendly kick to his ankle. "Hey. Is everything alright, mate?"

His friend turned back to him and showed him a weak, half-hearted smile.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, and when he saw that Szabo wasn't entirely convinced, he insisted, "I really am. I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

"Are you feeling ill? You're very pale, although a few hours ago when you arrived at the office you were positively flushed."

"No, I'm not ill. I'm tired, I told you."

"What about the nosebleed, then?"

"The what?" Jonathan looked at him perplexed. How could Szabo possibly know about the nosebleed?

"You have drops of blood on your tie," his friend informed him. "Have you been in a fight, Jonathan?"

Harker had a lump in his throat and it didn't matter how many times he swallowed, it didn't want to disappear.

"I'm not fit for an interrogation, Szabo," he stated seriously. "I just wanted to know your opinion on this thing."

There was something unnerving about Jonathan's behaviour, but Szabo didn't want to nag at him, lest he grow angry and leave him then and there in the park.

"How dangerous is the man?" he finally asked, turning the conversation back to its original course.

"Very," answered Jonathan. "He treads on everyone who's in his way."

"And he'd make the person pay his debt by having him do the same thing to his rivals…?" Szabo guessed.

"Maybe. Maybe he only asks for discretion. Let's say the man's intentions are not crystal clear."

"I see. Could you…" Szabo started, but he corrected himself quickly: "Could this person get in his way, deliberately or by accident, if they made the deal?"

"He certainly wouldn't wish to." Jonathan touched his brows with his finger. His splitting headache didn't want to cease. When he lifted his hand away, he looked up at the sky. A downpour was coming.

"I don't like the treading part." Szabo remarked.

Jonathan stared blankly in front of him.

"Yeah. Me neither."

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

He was thinking about this conversation several hours later when the rain hit London with elemental force. He was still roaming the streets like someone who didn't have a welcoming place to go to, a place where he could have found shelter from the clammy weather. With the rain, darkness descended as well and, having done their daily business, the people around him hurried home, trying to protect themselves from the wet drops with big black umbrellas. Jonathan had no umbrella with him, but he used the _Westminster Gazette_ for the same purpose, at least until his hand started to tire. He didn't have any reason not to go home, but he was restless and he knew he couldn't sit in one place, or go to sleep for that matter.

Since he'd talked to Szabo, he'd turned the possibilities over and over in his head regarding Alexander's offer and he came to a decision, even if it was one hard to make. He resolved to stay away from Grayson and only go to Carfax Manor on business, not for any other reason. To make this resolution was one of the toughest things he'd ever done. In the course of the day, something amazing had been given to him that now he purposefully had to deny himself. The bittersweet memories of the metal-tasting kiss still assaulted his mind and he regretted not daring to lose himself in the moment. But what had happened, happened. He had to concentrate on forgetting now.

As time went by, the rain became heavier and Jonathan had to part with the _Westminster Gazette_, since it fell to pieces in his hand. The streets started to die out around him; no sane people wished to take a walk in a rainstorm. Harker fished his watch out from the pocket of his waistcoat and, constantly wiping the raindrops off its glass, he checked the time. It was nine twenty in the evening – much later that he thought. The wind aggressively blew towards him; he started feeling the cold seeping in under his garments. He felt the need to be somewhere warm, but he didn't wish to go home. His house, being a gift from Alexander, couldn't have given comfort to him that night. He couldn't go and ask Mr. Murray, Mina's father, to spare him a room for the night either – it was too late to call on them; they were surely sound asleep.

The rain was pouring on his head and the wetness that found its way through his overclothes stuck his shirt to his skin. Jonathan knew he needed to get home soon if he didn't want to catch his death, but for that he needed to find a carriage. He looked around to see where he was and bitter was the realization that struck him: he was merely a few streets away from Carfax Manor. His pointless wandering wasn't that pointless after all – his feet betrayed him; they took him directly towards the lair of temptation. There wasn't a soul on the street where he was, not to mention a carriage, so he decided to take a turn round the corner and try his luck on another street.

He had to walk a while until at last he heard the familiar sound of hooves treading on the cobbles. The carriage came from behind him, but when he turned, he saw immediately this wasn't one for hire. Even from a distance away he recognized the black horses, also the vehicle they pulled, and suddenly he was filled with alarm. He would have run away if he could, but there weren't any side streets he could have disappeared on – onwards was the only way to go. The gas lamps were lighted all along the street, but he hoped the rain was still dense enough to hide his identity.

Unfortunately it wasn't.

The carriage stopped beside him and its door opened.

"This is not the time to wander about without a coat and umbrella, Harker. I believe our destination is the same. Come, get in!" Grayson reached out a hand toward him.

Jonathan didn't take it.

He swallowed raindrops as he spoke:

"You're mistaken, Alexander. I'm not going to Carfax, I'm going home."

A shadow of surprise appeared on the American's face.

"Going home from where? You live on the other side of the London."

Jonathan couldn't give an answer to that question, but he didn't need to, because Alexander looked out into the pouring rain and went on:

"Get in, I'll take you home! You're soaked to the bone, man, and you surely don't want to stroll outside all night."

Jonathan thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that he had to climb in that damned carriage beside Alexander, because, if he wanted to be realistic, the chance of finding someone who would have taken him home was pretty low.

He took a seat opposite the man and tried to make very clear what he wanted:

"I'd thank you if you took me home, Alexander. That is all I need right now. To be home…"

"Very well," said the American and he turned his back to him to give the instructions to Renfield. Jonathan only heard whispered words and in a moment Alexander was facing him again.

"I believe this means that you don't want my company tonight, Harker." Grayson pushed his top hat up on his forehead with the knob of his walking cane, so he could look Jonathan in the eye. His face looked neutral, not showing any traces of emotion.

Harker knew exactly what was on his mind.

"It wouldn't be proper…" Jonathan was fishing for words "… for us to engage ourselves in… certain physical activities."

Alexander couldn't hold back a laugh. His face was beaming in the light of the gas lamps that shone in the tiny windows. Then suddenly he exchanged his cheery expression with a serious one. He slipped closer to Jonathan, right to the edge of his seat. An electrifying feeling ran through Harker as Alexander laid one hand on his knee.

"Now tell me this," he demanded with a low, raspy voice. "Do you consider that proper when you touch yourself in the dead of the night and whisper my name when you find your release?" The hand squeezed his knee when Grayson got to the word 'release'.

"How dare you…!" Jonathan squirmed in his seat.

Alexander suddenly lifted himself up, and leaned over him, closing that little distance they had between them.

"I dare, darling boy, I dare," he whispered into Jonathan's ear. "Because believe me when I say that the best things you can do in life are improper. Isn't it wonderful when you make a mess of your sheets at night? Wasn't it a sweet mess we made this morning?... Can you still taste the blood in your mouth?"

Alexander's closeness made Jonathan's heart race in his chest. His damp clothes felt colder on his skin than when he was out in the rain. He felt the warmth radiating towards him from Alexander and he couldn't have enough of it. He was aroused, but he felt uncomfortable in the wet garments and Alexander's arrogance annoyed him extremely. After Grayson planted his last question Harker gave him a push as a result of which Alexander landed back in his original place. The same time the carriage jerked to a halt.

"We're here, sir." Jonathan heard Renfield's voice from the front. When he took a glance outside he saw the giant dark windows of Carfax Manor.

"Home, sweet home." Alexander sighed.

Harker was deceived once more.

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

"I want to leave right now!" Jonathan demanded. "Tell Renfield I'm ready to go!"

Alexander's feet were swift on the stairs, but even so, Jonathan was at his heels all the time. They were mounting the spiral staircase that led upstairs to the bedrooms.

"I won't keep you here against your will, Harker, don't you worry!" Grayson reassured him, glancing back at him from the top of the stairs. "But you have to change. Your clothes are all wet. I've sent Renfield to fetch you a dry outfit. A very good friend of mine recently paid me a visit and he accidentally left behind some of his clothes. He's more of your size than I am and I'm sure he wouldn't mind you wear his shirt. Come!"

He put his hand on Jonathan's back and gently started leading him down a corridor along which there were many doors, all closed. They almost reached the end of the passage when finally Alexander opened up a door and rushed Harker through it. They stepped in a finely, but barely furnished bedroom – a big four-poster bed stood on the left side by the wall, and across the room a large bookshelf, filled to the top caught Jonathan's eye. On the right side of the room there was only a nice wooden inlaid bureau next to the hearth that was situated opposite to the bed.

The warmth of the sparkling fire tempted Jonathan; he didn't want to stay he'd decided not to involve himself with Alexander after all, and he was still determined to keep himself to that decision, but there wasn't anything wrong with sitting a few minutes by the fire before he left – just to dry his clothes and gain back his spirit.

"I'll change and then I'll leave you to rest," he stated. "It's very late."

"It is, indeed." As if the temperature had some influence over the quality of Grayson's smile – it seemed to be warmer than ever in the fire-lighted room. He stepped behind the door and pulled out a chair that Jonathan couldn't see before. He pulled it in front of the fire and then he returned to Jonathan. "Let me help you with that," he offered, indicating his suit. He stepped behind Harker and pulled it off him.

"Thank you!" Jonathan was grateful.

"You should take the waistcoat and shirt off too and sit by the fire. I can give you a blanket."

"Not a chance!" It was obvious that Grayson's suggestion wasn't to Harker's liking. He became suspicious. Although he'd turned down Alexander's offer, the American didn't seem to accept that fact. If he exposed himself in front of him then, Grayson could have easily taken advantage of the situation. If only he knew why his heart started beating frantically to the mere idea!

"I'll change when the clean shirt comes and I'll require some privacy if you don't mind."

"I do mind, but if you wish, you'll have it." Alexander shrugged. "Sit, then!" he tapped the back of the chair.

Jonathan did as he was told. He felt relieved when the comforting heat of the fire fully enveloped him at last.

"I have sent out the letters to the press." He tried to start a casual conversation because he didn't know how much time it took for Renfield to return. "Hopefully the day after tomorrow all the important papers will devote a column or two to your demonstration."

"Splendid! I'm glad." Alexander used a poker to stir up the fire. His profile was illuminated by the red flames – he looked anything but glad.

"Will you be there?" he asked, putting down the poker.

Jonathan slowly shook his head. "I can't go. Mina wants me at the ball in the hospital."

"Ah, the ball…" Alexander seemed to have forgotten about it. He straightened up and his face was now fully in the shadows. "Do you like dancing, Harker?"

Jonathan cracked up for the first time that day. "Not particularly, no. I'm afraid I have two left feet. Although Mina says I'm not as bad at it as I think I am. She claims she loves dancing with me, but I presume she tells me what she thinks I want to hear."

While he was talking, Alexander kept glancing at his clothing; he didn't even try to hide his discontentment. As if a sudden thought struck him he leaned over him, just like in the carriage, but he didn't come that close this time.

"And how do you think Miss Mina would like if you had to lie in bed ill instead of dancing at the ball with her, because you had foolishly spent hours in the rain and then insisted to keep your wet clothes on you for more time than it had been necessary?"

Alexander stroked the knot of Jonathan's tie with one finger and he boldly lifted his other hand to reach under his collar to loosen it. Harker's breathing became uneven, but he didn't lose time to react: he gripped both of Alexander's hands hard.

"Don't do this," he almost pleaded. "Don't touch me… please!" He choked on the word; he tried to swallow back tears, but despite his struggle, his eyes were already dimmed with them.

"Shhh," Alexander soothed him. He cupped Harker's face and placed kisses on his cheek, the corner of his mouth and finally, on his lips. "It's alright. It's going to be all right." He kissed him hard on the mouth then, his tongue parted Jonathan's lips and sojourned into the young man's mouth, exploring it, making him forget his troubles. In a few moments, thanks to Alexander's ministrations, Jonathan relaxed. Grayson pulled back slowly, and wiped the tears away from Harker's face.

"Why are you torturing me?" Jonathan inquired weakly, his features full of resignation.

Alexander shook his head in disagreement. "I'm not torturing you; you're doing this to yourself, Harker." He went back to loosening the tie. Jonathan flinched, as if he was doing something unpleasant to him. "Just let me finish this." Grayson asked, lifting the tie over Harker's head. He started working on the buttons of his waistcoat. "Let me help your with it, I swear I won't touch you if you don't want me to."

Jonathan didn't resist him; he didn't have the strength to run anymore. There and then Alexander could have done anything to him and he'd let him get on with what he wanted. However, to his surprise, after the man ridded him of his shirt he covered him in a warm blanket and, saying not a word, left him alone in the room.

Jonathan pulled the blanket tight over himself and stared into the fire. He was exhausted – the events of the day were too much for him to process and his body wasn't in a glorious state either, thanks to the rain that had been falling on his head all afternoon and the cold that had been following him everywhere.

In a few minutes he heard Alexander return. He brought a crisp white shirt and other pieces of clothing with him. He told Jonathan to remain seated and he helped him dress like he'd helped him undress. Neither of them uttered a word during the process until the very end of it. Alexander left Jonathan's neck exposed by leaving the last few buttons undone on his shirt and pulled out a beautiful black cravat from his suit pocket. Tying it around Jonathan's neck he said:

"This is one of my favourites, but I've always thought it would look better on you than it does on me. Look after it for me until we meet again!"

Jonathan nodded and gave him a grateful smile. Now that they were done, he pocketed his watch that Alexander retrieved from his wet waistcoat for him and he stood on wobbly legs.

This was the moment when Renfield stepped in the room to announce that the carriage was ready to take Harker home.

Grayson escorted him all the way down to the gate where he kissed him on the mouth once more. At least it was something Jonathan let him do.

"If you could spare one hour the day after tomorrow and come to the demonstration, you'd make me very happy, Harker," he said.

Jonathan felt uncomfortable.

"I can't. The ball…" he muttered.

"You can surely make an excuse." Alexander pushed. "It'd be only one hour. I'd like to see you in the crowd."

"I'll try, but I can't promise you anything."

They shook hands and parted.

His coughing fits started on the way home in the carriage. The next morning his temperature was so high, he couldn't leave the bed.

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><p><strong>AN: **I wanted to write a scene with Szabo, because I liked him very much and I think it's a shame he only appeared a few times on the show.

Writing the interactions between Grayson and Harker is a treat, it really is. Can you guys feel the chemistry between these two? I hope you can, like I do.


	3. Chapter 3

He tossed and turned for hours on end in his delirium, only occasionally did he wake when the tickle in his throat became so intolerable he couldn't help but cough. The fits were so violent that once they were over, Jonathan had trouble regulate his breathing, but shortly fell back into the dreamless sleep he'd risen from.

The house was silent around him – he occupied the place alone; he didn't have intention of hiring a maid or a butler until after he married. As for Mina, he wasn't expecting her that day; she'd told him she had arrangements to make concerning the ball. He had no one to tend to him while his condition became worse and worse and he could have hardly put a pen to paper to let someone know he was ill – he lacked the strength to lift his arm and he lost sense of reality too often to be able to scribble a note. There wasn't anyone near him who would have delivered a message for him anyway, so he lay helplessly and kept struggling with his malady alone.

The shine of the weak early afternoon sun licked the curtains from outside, but not much of the light seeped through the heavy material. The part of the room where Jonathan's bed stood was shrouded in semidarkness. The substance of the shady air started to vibrate when the sound of a creaking door cut the everlasting silence in the house. Jonathan didn't hear a thing – he was shivering in his bed, his mouth half open, his hand clasping at the crumpled sheet under him.

Suddenly, a familiar sensation oozed through the thick fog that had descended on his mind and slowly put him at ease. A cool and gentle hand touched his flaming cheek, giving him the relief he'd been yearning all night and morning. He couldn't open his eyes to see who the soothing fingers belonged to; he was still too far away in mind to do that, but he pressed his face against the coolness of the palm and mumbled something to make it stay. However, in what seemed to be a minute – but could have been hours given his uncertain sense of time – the hand withdrew and Jonathan gave out a moan of protest that apparently fell on deaf ears; he was mercilessly denied the comfort of touch from whoever was in the room.

Not long after, he fell back into heavy sleep once more it seemed, and this time he dreamed.

_The heavens opened above him once again and rain was pouring from the black skies – he could feel the cold drops rushing down his forehead, cheeks and the side of his naked chest. While a day before the cloud-burst appeared to be a punishment of God cast upon his head, now it felt more of a sign of salvation. His body that had been burning up with fever for almost a day was freshened by the chilly drops. One raindrop hit his upper lip and he licked it off. It tasted exactly like Alexander's kiss: coppery, but sweet at the same time. He realized with the rain, the sky was falling over him as well. He let everything go… _

_When he opened his eyes, he assumed he was still sleeping, because the edges of his vision were blurred and he felt slightly lightheaded. He was lying in his bed, but not alone. A man's body was wrapped around his own; an arm lay across his chest in a protective fashion. When Jonathan lifted his head a bit and glanced down, he recognized Alexander's dark hair, although the man's face was hidden from him. The skin of Alexander's bare back looked velvety smooth in the shade and Harker couldn't restrain himself from tracing the line of his spine up from the hem of his trousers to the base of his neck. Finally, careful not to wake Grayson, he ran his fingers through his hair, trapping the black locks between his fingers. That was when Mina entered the room, holding a vase with a single red rose in her hands. She was prattling happily about the hospital ball, not wasting a glance on him. She was walking towards the chest of drawers that stood under the window; clearly she wished to put the vase on it so the rose could enjoy the sunshine. She stopped in front of the window and looked at the drawn curtains suspiciously for a minute. She turned at last, perhaps to ask Jonathan why he didn't let the sunshine in. A painful expression resonated through her features when she saw the two men in the bed. She let go of the vase and it shattered into a hundred little pieces on the floor. Her eyes filled with tears. And then she screamed…_

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

Jonathan woke up with a start. He tried to tame the rapid cadence of his heart by gaining control of his breathing, but the attempt soon ended in a long and violent fit of coughing. When it was over, he sat up in bed and looked around as if expecting someone to be in the room with him, but he found no one. He felt better – he still had a low temperature, but it didn't prevent him from getting up, so he left the bed and looked for a clean shirt to wear. After dressing himself and washing his face with cold water to refresh, he remembered something and went to the front door to collect the post.

He had given the newspapers his own address to reply to regarding Grayson's demonstration and now he held their responses in his hands. He returned to his room to open the envelopes, but to his great surprise they were all already ripped open. He wondered what a world he lived in – lately no one's private business was safe from the eyes of the nosy postmen.

He went through each of the letters with a frown on his face and occasionally with a handkerchief in front of his mouth to cough in. They were all refusals, without an exception. Once he was done reading, he immediately felt the urge to act. He should have delivered these replies to Alexander that morning, but thanks to his illness, now the man didn't know his demonstration wouldn't be advertised. Jonathan checked his watch: it was seven thirty-seven in the evening, not too late for a visit to Carfax.

He wasn't sure why he was so eager to carry out Alexander's instruction – after all, he'd cheated him – he couldn't tell if it was the fear of his anger or the longing for his closeness that persuaded him to put on his shoes and coat, but he did anyway.

He welcomed the evening breeze that touched his face while he was locking the door. He still felt a bit hot, although it was but a mere annoyance compared to what he'd experienced earlier.

The street wasn't deserted; many people enjoyed the mild evening weather that was a blessing after the downpour the day before. When Jonathan looked up, he could see the almost-full moon blinking down at him, its surface covered by a floating cloud now and then. He started walking down the street at a normal pace, his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the pavement. However, he had only taken a few steps ahead, when something touched his shoulder and made him jump; he wondered if he really did hear the flapping of wings beside his ear.

When he lifted his head, he realized it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him; above him, a bat circled in the air, dangerously close to him. Jonathan tried to shoo it away, but the creature seemed to be fixed on him; whenever he wanted to take a step further, it flapped at him with its strong wings. Harker marvelled at the animal's persistence, but slowly he grew annoyed because it didn't let him go on his way. The passers-by soon threw him bewildered glances, but no one stopped to help drive the bat away. In the end, Jonathan was flailing his arms in the air, and he did not dare to look up anymore, lest the creature flew against his face. Panic coursed through him as all of his actions failed against his little foe, and with the panic came the urge to cough.

He reached in his pocket blindly and pulled out his handkerchief. Holding it in front of his mouth he coughed hard for nearly a minute. When he wasn't shaking from the strain anymore, and he could look around, to his relief he didn't see the bat anywhere. He was about to pocket his hanky, but when he glanced down at it, he became very much alarmed; the material was soaked with blood. He took a deep breath to calm himself and put the handkerchief away. He had a duty to fulfil that evening and then he'd return to bed to sleep off the nasty cold he had. _Everything is going to be alright_, he tried to reassure himself.

He put one foot after another again, but he didn't get far when, out of thin air, the bat returned and pounced on him once more. He'd tried everything to get rid of it for good this time, but he didn't succeed; the animal kept whipping above and around him assiduously. Eventually he pressed himself against a pair of columns that stood by the entrance of a building next to him and hoped the creature would give up his assault if it found no way to get to him. Nevertheless, in a few moments, it became clear he didn't have the patience to wait, because the sound the wings made was driving him mad.

All of a sudden, he turned around ready to run, but to his astonishment, he found himself face to face with Mina. She gripped his wrist to keep him in place and with her other arm she drove the bat away. They saw it fly above the street lamps and in a moment it disappeared in the darkness.

"Jonathan, dearest, are you alright?" Mina asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Jonathan nodded, straightening his clothes. "That cruel little beast didn't want to leave me alone."

"I wonder why it ventured under the gas lamps. The light must have blinded him, that could be the reason why it kept bumping into you." Mina took her fiancé's hand into hers and pulled it to her lips. "Jonathan, you're shaking," she remarked, her voice full of worry.

"What are you doing here, Mina?" He asked softly, ignoring his lady's distress. "I thought you were making preparations for the ball…"

"Mr. Grayson told me to check on you because you should have visited him in the morning, but you didn't show up," Mina explained.

"Mr. Grayson?" Jonathan was taken aback.

"Yes," Mina beamed. "I went to Carfax Manor today to ask him to lend the hospital his gramophone, because there is no ball without music. He is so very generous, Jonathan, he said yes! We talked for a short time after that, that was when he said he was worried for you…"

"He said he was worried for me?" Jonathan interrupted her.

"Why, yes, dear!" Mina nodded and meanwhile she pressed the back of her delicate hand to Jonathan's forehead. "And how right he was sending me here!" She exclaimed. "Jonathan, you're burning up!"

"It's just a mild fever, Mina, don't alarm yourself!" He told her, but Mina knew better. She convinced him to go back home with her that instant. When he told her it was important to take the letters to Grayson, she said they could wait; their content wouldn't change just because they were delivered. Not long after they entered the house, Jonathan felt the urge to cough, and seeing the blood he coughed up, she fretted even more.

"You're not coming to the ball tomorrow, Jonathan. You'll stay in bed for days if need be."

There was no way to contradict Mina. He loved her with all his heart, even if it wasn't the kind of love she imagined it to be. He wouldn't have hurt her feelings, so he yielded to her will. He let her nurse him in the evening, and promised her everything she asked of him.

Before he went to sleep, he thought he saw the shadow of a winged creature move on the wall of his room where the light of the moon shone through the window.

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

Although she spent the night in the guestroom to be there for Jonathan in case he needed to be looked after, in the morning Mina had to leave, for a spacious ward in the hospital had to be decorated before the evening and the nurses could do with helping hand. She said she would come back in the afternoon to see how he was and made him promise to stay in bed.

The promise in question was broken not long after she put her feet out of the house.

Ignoring the low temperature that he was still running, Jonathan pulled himself together, got dressed, and set out to give the letters he'd unwittingly withheld from their true recipient. He hired a coach to get to his destination and during the journey he let his mind wander to the dream he had the day before, the one where his and Alexander's body were tangled, the one where he caressed his friend's back and fondled his hair. His fingers started tingle at the mere memory and a strong desire shot through him to try to re-enact the touching part of the dream in real life. He could give himself as much, just some touching and maybe a bit of kissing again. No one would know and surely his soul wouldn't be doomed to damnation for enjoying giving and receiving a bit of love for a few minutes. Alexander wouldn't mind; he expressed his willingness many a time. Jonathan smiled to himself at the idea that he would be holding Alexander in his arms in a short time…

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

"I'm so sorry I couldn't come yesterday," Harker apologized as he gave his coat to Renfield and followed Alexander to the round parlour where the fire was burning and a maid was standing on a stool, cleaning the chandelier. "I had fallen ill and couldn't make it here, nor could I send the letters to you in any way. Here are the answers to your invitations." He presented the envelopes to Alexander. "I'm afraid all the papers we'd written to refused to advertise your machine or its presentation. I think we should act immediately. I sugge…"

"It's okay, Harker, calm down!" Alexander cut him short. He took the letters and threw them on the little round table that stood not far from the fire, from which he then lifted a few pieces of paper that he gave to Jonathan. "Everything has been taken care of. Read!" He commanded.

While Harker studied the leaflets, Grayson sent the maid out of the room.

"You had these printed when?" Harker inquired, astonished.

"Overnight. They'll be all over London by now."

"But how did you know that you'd need these? We counted on the papers to spread the word."

He fished out his handkerchief to cough in it. He was glad to see that there was no blood this time.

"I knew they refused our request," Alexander answered simply. He didn't look in Harker's eyes, his gaze travelled down the young man's face and after a while settled down on his neck.

Jonathan didn't even try to hide how perplexed he was. "How did you know?" He breathed.

Grayson licked his lips before he finally managed to tear his eyes from Harker's neck.

"I knew because I read the letters at your place."

"E-Excuse me?" Harker shook his head, indicating he didn't understand.

"You didn't come in the morning and I suspected something was wrong, because it's unlike you, staying away when you say you'd come," Alexander explained. "And so I went to your house where I found you in a terrible state. I figured I could spare a few hours to stay with you until you pulled through the worst of it. You seemed to be very grateful for my attention; you mumbled my name quite a few times, as if you knew I was there with you. Although, I have to say it wasn't easy to break the fever. When the wet cloth turned out to be of little use, I lay beside you and in the end it was my body temperature that tamed yours."

"You lay beside me…?" Harker gasped.

"Yes," Alexander confessed, "and half-naked, too. If you want an apology, you won't have it."

Jonathan looked away from Grayson and showed an open-mouthed smile of wonder. What the man had said meant that his dream wasn't a dream after all.

"You put your head on my chest. You were sleeping," he marveled, telling these things to Grayson and asking them at the same time.

Alexander corrected him, "I wasn't sleeping. I was listening to your heartbeat."

Jonathan smiled even wider; his brilliant white teeth were fully showing. He assumed the part of the dream when Mina came to the room wasn't real, since he'd met her in the previous evening and she was all gentle and caring towards him, but at last he was sure that everything else had actually happened, and knowing that, his heart almost burst from happiness.

However, when he was no longer overwhelmed with feelings, he looked back at Alexander and he didn't like what he saw. He'd noticed earlier that he wasn't his collected self that day. He looked worn and edgy; he couldn't stop in one place while they were conversing. He kept staring at him and in the last few minutes, Jonathan had the peculiar impression that he was circling him, like an animal circles its prey.

"Thank you!" Jonathan said earnestly when Alexander came to his line of vision again. The American came to a halt in front of him. Jonathan went on: "… For looking after me and for being gentle to me. Not just yesterday, but the day before yesterday as well."

"You're welcome Harker," Grayson said, his mouth slightly quivering. "Now you should go."

Jonathan gaped at him. He couldn't imagine why he was being sent away. In the last couple of days, whenever they met, they'd ended up standing inches away from each other, but now Alexander kept his distance and he was asking him to leave. Jonathan took a step towards the man, but at the same time Grayson took a step back.

"Alexander, are you unwell? Your hands are shaking," Harker pointed out something he'd observed before when Grayson handed him the leaflets.

Grayson immediately hid his hands in the pockets of his grey trousers.

"I'm perfectly fine." He reassured Jonathan. "But you… you have not perfectly recovered yet. I can see by looking at you. Go home! Rest!"

"I'm feeling much better, thanks to you!" Jonathan insisted and now he was determined to get close to Alexander. He started to walk towards him and to his surprise, after backing away a few more steps, Alexander didn't try to escape anymore.

Jonathan remembered his thoughts in the carriage; the desire to touch Alexander was still there, more fiercely than ever, and seeing the man pale and somehow weirdly broken as he was, he so wished to give him comfort.

"Don't come closer, Harker, I warn you," Alexander hissed, though he himself did nothing to put a wider distance between him and Jonathan. "The door is that way," he pointed. "You better use it."

But Jonathan was determined and nothing could stop him. "I see something is wrong. I'd like to help," he offered and closed the distance between him and Alexander, but before he could put a hand on the man, Grayson gripped his wrist, yanked him around and pulled his arm up his back.

Jonathan cried out in agony.

"Why didn't you understand when I put it nicely? You could have spared yourself the pain," he heard Alexander whisper in his ear. "You're not safe here. I want you out that door, do you understand?" Grayson's voice was tainted with anger, but also misery. Since Harker didn't answer, he jerked his arm upwards again and made him whine once more. "Do you understand?" The question was repeated.

Harker nodded at last. Grayson let him go and Jonathan looked back at him, his face full of disappointment and disbelief.

He went for the door and shut it behind him. The room echoed the sound until Alexander's ears hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

Dracula was shaking terribly with anger after Harker left. Unable to control his rage, he vented his spleen on the table and chair that stood by the hearth, kicking them over and about a few times. He smoothed his hair back and growled in frustration, baring his fangs at the empty room. A moment later he left the parlour behind and started dashing up the stairs and, since he took two at a time, he reached his room in no time.

He could still see Harker depart from the window; his tall figure crossed the little bridge by the manor right then, the light brown coat he was wearing billowed behind him. Dracula let out a painful groan and turned his gaze away from the glass. He banged his head against the wall, once and twice. He was furious for two reasons: first, because finally he had to accept that Van Helsing was right – he couldn't go on without feeding much longer –, and second, because Harker decided to follow his desire on that of all days.

Dracula would have found Harker's earlier persistence impressive if it didn't vex him so much. He thought the whole case was ridiculous, really. A few days before he couldn't have cared less for the lad, he'd been just a tool, an errand boy with a handsome face, nothing more. But ever since he'd found out about his sexual preference, Harker started to fascinate him. He himself was a man of pleasure; he always took what he wanted and hardly ever wasted a thought on morals. He had had several male lovers in his 'second life' and having sexual intercourse with a man was as natural to him as making love to a woman.

Harker, on the other hand, had lived his whole life in denial, and Grayson couldn't help but wonder why. According to his assumptions, Harker was either afraid of the law of people or the law of God; the former of which Grayson laughed at, the latter, he frowned upon and despised. After the secret had been out and Harker had left his study two days earlier, he began to feel an urge to help him out of his identity crisis. He wished to guide him; he wanted to make him understand that he could lose nothing by letting himself go with the flow.

He had planned on showing him how a man can love another that very night, but, seeing Harker in such a confused and agitated state, he'd decided he wouldn't push it – he didn't want to lose his new pupil before the lesson had even started. The next day, when he'd found Harker ill, he'd felt a strange sensation shoot through him. He'd stayed with him, and in the evening, after he'd send Mina to check on him, he'd returned to the house himself in a form of a bat to see how Harker had felt. It had proved to be a good decision, because that foolish fellow had apparently wanted to take a walk in the moonlight. He could have hardly kept him there until Mina arrived.

Dracula now took a long deep breath to contain his nervousness and fury. He'd been growing angrier and angrier lately, for it had become more and more obvious he'd fallen in a trap he'd made for himself. It was hard to confess even to his own self, but the fact that it wasn't easy to get a grip on Harker fuelled his desire for the young journalist up to a point where he couldn't think of much else but him. He was used to getting what he wanted, but this time it seemed he had to put up a fight, using weapons like gentleness and flattery, neither of which could be originally found in his armoury. He didn't know how he'd win Harker over again after sending him away so harshly – bloody hunger, he thought –, but he was determined to try.

He pressed his forehead against the wall and forced himself to breathe evenly. For situations like this, he had a well-tried technique that worked wonders whenever he wanted to get over his rage. While he was unbuttoning his trousers with quaky fingers, he cursed himself for choosing to wear the ones with the two rows of buttons in the morning. He virtually tore the trousers down along with his underwear and when his fingers were finally curved around his already half-hard penis, he pulled his head away from the wall and went on supporting himself with one hand instead. He worked himself towards his release fast, too carried away to dictate a leisurely pace. Flashes of imaginary scenarios ran through his mind, like blood in a vein, treating him with glimpses of a naked and willing Harker. He grimaced in concentration and pleasure contorted his features even more when he remembered Harker mumbling his name in his delirium. Once he was moments away from ejaculating, he couldn't stifle his moans anymore. He came with a deep and loud sigh on his lips, his semen sprinkled over the lower part of the wall and the floor – even his trousers around his ankles caught a few drops of it. Alexander let go of his cock and leaned against the wall with his shoulder.

He was panting heavily, but his anger more or less evaporated. His hunger, however, wasn't something that could be chased away that easily.

D*R*A*C*U*L*A

_What on earth had possessed Alexander to throw him out like that?_

Jonathan spent the whole day trying to gather possible answers to that question. After he left Carfax with an aching shoulder and hurt feelings, he headed home because Mina promised to visit in the afternoon and he wanted to please her by waiting for her arrival in bed.

Wrapping himself in the warm sheets, he brooded over the scene between him and Alexander for hours on end and still he couldn't come up with a logical reason for Alexander's behaviour. Even though he sent him away in the most rigorous manner and refused his offer of comfort in the form of a vicious attack, Jonathan couldn't overlook the man's beaten state and his words that didn't make much sense to him. Why did he say he wasn't safe there? It was a mystery – one that ate at Jonathan's mind like Grayson's rejection ate at his heart.

He wasn't done with the man; he planned on demanding an explanation the next time they met, and he hoped for Alexander's sake he had a good one up his sleeve.

Unfortunately, Jonathan's body seemed to sense that the events of the morning upset him greatly, because in the afternoon his fever returned and he dozed off before Mina arrived.

He woke late in the night to whispering voices, the source of which he couldn't identify at first, but later he realized was two men having a conversation under his window and the shreds of their gossiping was audible inside, since sounds spread more widely in the stillness of that late hour.

"Told ya there would be a glitch in the system," Jonathan heard one of the men speak. "Wireless energy, my arse!"

"These young and ambitious Americans are all the same, mind you," the other one replicated. "They're waggin' their tongues about saving the world, but usually they do more harm than good in the end."

"Aye," sighed the first man "I feel sorry for those poor people who got sick. May God help them recover!"

"Yes, may God help them…" The voice of the second man faded away now. The pair of them seemed to walk further away on the street and they left silence behind them.

Jonathan put the pieces together in no time. Those men were talking about Grayson's machine. Could it be so late already that the demonstration was over? He looked for his watch and realized the time had flown away while he slept. According to what the men said, something had gone wrong, but they didn't really say what. And why were people getting sick? Was there an epidemic going around? Did Alexander get sick too? Was the demonstration held at all?

Jonathan had so many questions and he knew the answers wouldn't find him, unless he sought them. A note from Mina awaited him on the night-stand that he discovered while getting ready to go out. The message written by her neat hand read as follows:

_My dear Jonathan,_

_Much as I would have liked to hear your sweet voice, I didn't have the heart to wake you, for you need your rest. I hope you sleep through the night and wake up healthy and in good spirits in the morning. I wish I could be there with you when you open your eyes, though I'm afraid I'll sleep late into the morning, because the night will be long. Oh, how I'll miss your company tonight, dearest! But you just sleep and get better. We'll see each other tomorrow._

_You are in my heart and on my mind all the time._

_Loving you always,_

_Mina_

A heartfelt smile played in the corner of Jonathan's mouth while he was reading the precious words. The ball must have been over by then, but he hoped Mina had fun while it lasted and that at that moment she was already tucked in bed, and was sleeping peacefully. The thought that she may have been worried for him all evening and that it might have spoiled the ball for her made him feel a tinge of remorse. He was, in a way, responsible for his illness – walking in the rain was the silliest thing he'd done in ages – and after getting ill, instead being obedient and staying in bed, he kept going on errands with little or no reason at all.

He had to confess to himself that he was about to weary himself for the second time that day for an opportunity to see or maybe even talk to Alexander. They had a matter to discuss and Jonathan was curious what had happened in the demonstration, also he felt the need to know if Alexander was taken ill – considering what the men talked about under his window earlier, that possibility wasn't out of question.

He soon set off to Carfax, but when half an hour later he arrived there, Renfield informed him that Mr. Grayson had not yet returned home. The solicitor told him he could wait for him if he wished, but Harker didn't feel like sitting and waiting for who knows how long, instead he said he would call the next day and left. Of course, he didn't have the slightest intention of going home; he was determined to speak with Grayson, and so he was heading to the place where the man was most likely to be found when not home.

The old factory building that Alexander rented for his machine wasn't a long way from the American's home, and strolling through the streets of a sleeping London – if it wasn't raining – could be quite pleasant, indeed. Now and again he heard children crying in the houses he passed by, but aside from that, there was peace and quiet around him and he enjoyed that.

Only when he turned the corner of the cul-de-sac where he was going did the silence settle heavily on his shoulder.

He saw a black carriage waiting by the pavement with two fine black horses put to it, but there was not a soul nearby. The light of the gas lamps somehow gave an eerie atmosphere to the short street and if Harker would have listened to the alarm in his head, he'd have turned around and not come back until morning, but he took his presentiment for a childish apprehension and so instead of scuttling off, he started walking towards the carriage. On his way there he saw that the big metal gate of the factory was sealed with a chain and lock, but the door where the stuff usually came and went was left ajar and through it light seeped out from inside.

Jonathan stopped beside one of the horses and wondered why the carriage was left behind. For all he knew, it didn't belong to Alexander, at least he'd never seen it before. He petted the horse's head and stroked its neck as he took a few steps further, nearing the vehicle. He pulled his index finger over the surface of its side, and when he reached the door he tried to peek inside, but the black curtain was drawn, covering the view from him. He knocked twice on the door, but no answer came. He slowly slipped his hand on the handle of the door…

"Harker, what are you doing here at this hour?"

Jonathan suddenly turned on his heel, forgetting his curiosity about the carriage at once.

Alexander was leaning against the frame of the door that was half open when Jonathan last looked. Grayson crossed his arms across his chest as he scrutinized him. He looked calm and generally well. His aura of self-righteousness could be sensed across the street where Jonathan stood.

"I'm looking for you," Harker said, walking closer to Alexander. "I heard people talking on the street about the failure of the demonstration, but I don't know any details. What happened?"

"Come inside and I'll tell you everything," Alexander invited him with a wave of his hand.

They made their way to the centre of the building, walking through a few dimly lit corridors side by side. Alexander's hand rested on Harker's shoulder all along; Jonathan drew both reassurance and confidence from the contact. It was clear that whatever was holding Grayson back from touching him in the morning was not in the way anymore.

Once they reached the main area, the first thing Jonathan noticed was that the machine was hidden from their sight with a big off-white veil. After they climbed the bridge that led across the vast chamber, providing access to the machine that stood on a stage, Alexander stopped and pressed his lower back against the rail. Harker positioned himself in front of him, waiting.

Grayson slapped his palms together once and the shrilling sound of the clap multiplied in the room, creating the impression of many people clapping at once.

"We got busted," Alexander stated with a sour smile, while he grabbed the rail behind him with both of his hands. "People got sick in the streets nearby and they blamed it on my machine. The demonstration didn't even start when the police marched in and put an end to it."

"Oh, Alexander, I'm so sorry!" Jonathan said truthfully. Now it was his time to put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Don't be!" Alexander chuckled raspingly. "I know it was all set up and I also know who was behind it. They will pay for what they did, I swear they will."

"You mean Browning and his company?"

"Yes, I do," Grayson hissed. "Those rats…"

Seeing that the American's hands clenched into fists, Jonathan thought it was time to change the subject. There was no point in reminding Alexander of the unfortunate event of the night over and over again.

"I didn't come only to ask about the demonstration," he started. "I'd like you to tell me why you were so hostile to me in the morning."

As if something clicked to place in Alexander's mind, realization showed in his face and he let out a deep sigh. "Ahh…" He let go of the rail behind him and took Jonathan's hand in his. "Come here!" He pulled the tall man closer to him.

"I didn't feel quite well in the morning. I was nervous because of the demonstration and I'm afraid it poisoned my mood. Forgive me for my manner and that I hurt you. I didn't mean to do any of that, I was out of my mind."

He put his hand on the back of Jonathan's neck and pulled his head down to his. The kiss they shared was slow at first and lacked any abrupt moves – they were completely alone and at last they had time on their hands to savour each other's lips for however long they wished to. Alexander licked across Jonathan's lower lip and then pulled his tongue back, inviting Jonathan to be bolder than he ever had been – with success.

Harker took a handful of Alexander's hair in his hand and deepened the kiss, to which step his body reacted eagerly. He felt a heated wave running through him, but instead making him pretentious and daring the feeling frightened him to the core. While his body was certainly ready for what was about to come – his erection was straining his trousers hard –, his soul wasn't prepared. His inner struggle was still there and with that boundary in his mind, he couldn't give himself up entirely. He tried to force himself to block his thoughts, but he failed to stop thinking altogether.

Alexander abandoned his lips and started placing kisses on his throat, while his hand travelled lower and lower on his torso, smoothing his clothes down on its way.

"That's right," Alexander responded to one of Jonathan's barely audible groans "let me make the morning up to you, Harker." His palm pressed down on Jonathan's cock through the material of his trousers making the young man moan out loud this time. But in a moment Harker's hand closed on his and pulled it away from his manhood.

Grayson understood immediately that, according to Harker, he'd been going too far again, but this time he tried to react coolly and not make a fuss about his rejection. He remembered he'd have to be understanding if they wanted to make progress, and however big was the effort he had to make, he smiled at Harker, laying a palm on his cheek.

The young journalist wanted to get out of his embrace, but he held him firmly with one arm across his back.

"Hey! It's okay. You don't want to go further, we don't go further. But stay…" Alexander hesitated for a moment then added "please!"

"I should go…" Harker gabbed nervously, but Alexander hugged him tight and rested his cheek against his neck, which in the end made him relax.

"Stay here with me," he heard Alexander whisper. Jonathan closed his eyes and sighed; he was about to give in.

But then Alexander finished his sentence:

"Stay with me, at least until the police arrive."

Jonathan's eyes popped open with the speed of light.

"What did you say?" He inquired. "I thought the police was already here."

Grayson let him go to be able to look him in the eye.

"I'm afraid the officer who first came is still here."

Harker shook his head in incomprehension. "What do you mean?"

Alexander's words hit him like someone shouted in his ears.

"He's dead. He's out in the carriage."

"Wha.. What?" Harker stammered. "What happened to him?" A terrible suspicion started forming in his mind and he unwittingly took a step back from Grayson. "You have some doing in this, haven't you?" He asked.

"Don't be a fool, Harker!" Alexander chided. "I didn't kill him!"

"You're the only one around, if it wasn't you, who did it?" Harker snapped. "You had every reason to kill him. He had just precluded your demonstration and locked your machine away from public eye."

Alexander let out a little laugh before he spoke.

"Do you think I would tell you all this, if it was I who murdered him? I just told you I called the police and asked you to wait for them with me…"

Jonathan considered this for a moment.

"I almost opened the carriage door, but you stopped me."

Alexander shrugged. "He's not a pretty corpse."

Jonathan didn't like this whole case. He wasn't convinced at all hearing Alexander's reasoning.

"How do I know you really called the police? Beside you, I am the only one who knows about his death. You could…" he stopped talking; he couldn't give voice to what he was thinking.

"I could kill you, you mean, and smother up the murder… or murders, if I get rid of you too."

Harker swallowed hard and took another step back.

Grayson smiled his rough smile; he was seemingly having a lot of fun leading this conversation.

"Listen," he said. "I wanted to spare you of the sight of that ugly corpse, but you leave me no choice. I'll show you I didn't kill him."

"How can you _show_ me?" Harker inquired with a disgusted face.

"You didn't ask how he died," Alexander explained. "I found him next to the carriage when I arrived back here. I had some business to do after the demonstration was stopped, but I didn't want to go home right then, so I returned. The officer's body was lying on the ground; his throat was ripped out by what I think was some kind of animal; a feral dog, or wolf. You can see it for yourself and then you'll believe me. It wasn't the doing of a man."

Harker was shivering from fright and from a light fever. He couldn't think of a better solution at the moment, so he said:

"Show me then!"

On their way outside he was walking behind Alexander, lest the man tried to attack him when he least expected it from a position that was advantageous to him.

The night air was chilly and a soft breeze was blowing through the street, making Jonathan tremble even more. The carriage was there where they left it; its black surface was shimmering in the light of the lamps.

When they stepped next to the vehicle, Jonathan put his hand on the handle of the door, but he hesitated to open it. Suddenly he felt Alexander's hand on his, and the door got torn open. The policeman was laid on the seat of the carriage, with his head on the closest side to Jonathan. The first thing he thought looking at the body was that he was happy the officer's eyes weren't open. Then he let his glance travel further down, on the face and lower… A chunk of flesh was missing from the neck and there was so much blood; it soaked the cover of the seat and the floor of the carriage. He took another look at the gross wound, but he soon had to stop looking, because the sight was incredibly stomach-turning.

He withdrew from the door of the carriage and, bending double, started retching, although he couldn't throw up anything – it had been a long time since he had a rich meal.

"Do you believe me now, Harker?" he heard Alexander's voice from behind him.

"Yes," Jonathan said straightening up. "It must have been some animal."

"I'm glad we agree at last," came Alexander's voice.

Then Harker felt something hit the back of his head hard, and he remembered nothing after that.


End file.
